IT LIVES ONLY TO KILL
by Vanessa Sgroi
Summary: It was supposed to be a relatively easy hunt. But the creature they were hunting, the Leshy, had a trick up its ragged and repulsive sleeve that neither Winchester expected and Dean pays the price.  A BELATED BIRTHDAY PRESENT FOR MY FRIEND, DIZZO!


**A slightly belated birthday present for my lovely friend, Dizzo. I sure hope she enjoys it and I hope everyone else does too!**

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><p><strong>Disclaimers:<strong> As always, I don't own them. Just having a bit of fun.

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><p><strong>IT LIVES ONLY TO KILL<strong>

**By: Vanessa Sgroi**

It was supposed to be a relatively easy hunt. So said the books. But the creature they were hunting, the Leshy, had a trick up its ragged and repulsive sleeve that neither Winchester expected. And so, the older hunter was lured to his doom.

**(SN) (SN) (SN)**

Dean gasped and stiffened, futilely attempting to twist out of his bonds

as the Leshy wielded one of his most fearsome weapons—his fingers—once again. Forced giggles erupted from behind his clenched teeth even as his heels drummed against the stone and dirt floor of the cave. Gnarled brownish gray fingers roamed over his torso, his sides, the bottoms of his feet, seeking and finding ticklish spots. Even spots that were perhaps not so ticklish became so under the woodland spirit's insidious touch.

The hunter writhed beneath the assault, bare skin scraping against rough rock leaving behind bloody smears. Involuntary tears leaked from the corners of his eyes as Dean grunted hoarsely, struggling to stifle both his insane giggling and the overwhelming urge to beg his torturer to stop. So intense was his struggle that blood burst forth from his lower lip, his teeth rending the delicate skin.

The latest attack finally came to an end, leaving Dean weak and trembling. He worked to get his breath back while his surroundings swirled sickeningly around him and dark spots swirled in front of his eyes. Nausea coiled in his belly. Dean swallowed hard, wincing at the rawness in his throat.

_Sam. Sammy, where are you? Oh, God—I can't take anymore. Please._

The Leshy leaned forward, its beard of living grass and vines brushing against supersensitive skin causing Dean to whimper against his will. The creature sniffed deeply, slurped in a sloppy wad of foul smelling drool, its eyes glowing ever brighter. It stomped its hooved feet in delight.

Dean cried out in agony as the Leshy's fingers went back to work.

**(SN) (SN) (SN)**

Sam Winchester trudged on, pausing now and again to call his brother's name. His frantic search for Dean had begun hours ago, but the Leshy they had been hunting had hid his prey well.

Slinging a long leg over yet another felled dead tree, Sam hauled himself over the barrier and stopped on the other side, wiping a palm across his forehead in frustration.

"Dean!" He cocked his head to listen after his call, hoping for some small clue to his elder sibling's whereabouts. Scanning the landscape, he called again and was met once more with normal forest sounds. Moving forward, forest flora bending and crunching beneath his feet, he continued his entreaty, calling and stopping, calling and stopping.

The sun was hanging low in the sky when Sam stopped and eased the backpack off his back, dropping it at his feet. His worry mounting, he bent and retrieved a bottle of water from within the pack's confines and took a long drink, easing his dry throat. Replacing the bottle, Sam drew in a breath, preparing to call out once more, but before he let the call loose a faint sound, carried on a sudden breeze, caught his attention. A laugh—it was a laugh. He was sure of it.

"Dean? Dean, where are you?" he yelled.

Homing in again on the sound, Sam hoisted the pack and took off in the direction from which he thought it was coming. He was upon the Leshy's hideaway almost before he knew it. Its concealment as clever as any Sam had ever seen. Pulling in a breath, the young hunter crept forward toward the mouth of the cave, wincing at the sound of his brother's tortured chortling.

**(SN) (SN) (SN)**

The Leshy stopped mid-tickle, pulling its hands away from Dean's stomach. Rising from its endeavor, the monster lumbered right and left searching for whatever had disturbed its pleasure. Head swiveling to and fro, it searched its domain, nostrils twitching. After a few moments of quiet, it returned to Dean's side, reached for Dean's feet intending to soon finish off its prey.

"Hey, you fugly sonuvabitch!" Sam's deep growl bounced against the cave walls and reverberated throughout the small space. "Leave my brother alone."

Sam's aim was true. The flaming arrow caught the creature in the neck, setting its beard aflame. The Leshy's hands sought to douse the flames as it was wont to do, but it was useless. Its unholy screeching soon became a death rattle as it choked and burned simultaneously. Swaying from side to side, it stumbled then tumbled into its treasure of piled discarded axes, kicked a few times and went still, crumpling moments later into a pile of sooty ash.

Coughing at the lingering smoke, Sam raced to Dean's side. He quickly undid his bindings. He tugged Dean against him.

Dean's eyes fluttered open. "S'my?"

"Yeah. Yeah, Dean, I've got you. It's okay."

"L-L-Leshhh-eee?" Dean shivered and coughed.

"It's gone. I got 'im. Flaming arrow covered in pitch and salt just like you said."

"T-tricked mmmee. S-sounded like y-you. Didn't m-mean to follow him."

"I know. It's okay. C'mon, let's get out of here." Reaching into his backpack, Sam yanked out a shirt and turned it inside out.

Dean cried out when Sam eased him into the shirt. Despite its well-washed softness, it felt like sandpaper against his raw, sensitized skin.

"Sorry, sorry." Sam murmured. "It's the only way we find the path outta this freakin' forest though." He finished dressing Dean in inside out clothing and made sure his boots were placed on opposite feet. Sam repeated the procedure with his own clothes then gathered Dean up, steadying him when he reached vertical. He held tight as they stumbled forward toward the mouth of the cave.

"S'm?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"D-didn't know bein' tick-tickled t'death c-c-could hurt so much." With that, Dean's eyes rolled up in his head and his knees gave way.

**(SN) (SN) (SN)**

Sam slid into the driver's seat and keyed the ignition. Hearing a soft groan, he glanced over to see his brother coming around. "Hang on, bro. We'll be at the motel soon."

Dean whispered something Sam didn't catch.

"What was that, Dean?"

"I wish this was the Impala…"

A light hand dropped down on Dean's knee. "I know, Dean, I know. And someday soon it will be again. I hope…"

_**FIN**_

**A/N:** _Leshy - A male woodland spirit from Slavic mythology that protects wild animals and the forest itself. Often it will lead humans astray to its cave where it can make them sick or possibly even tickle them to death. Known for its mischievous behaviour it often takes the form of a peasant but can be spotted by its glowing eyes. In its normal state it has a beard made from living grass and vines, and is often depicted with a tail, hooves and horns. They also have the ability to shrink themselves down to the size of a blade of grass or to the height of the tallest trees._


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